


Even In The Dark (I See Your Light)

by GalaxyGhosty



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s04e01-02 The Darkest Hour, M/M, Magic Revealed, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 16:02:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unable to allow Arthur to give himself to the veil, Merlin takes his place and is seemingly lost forever. Reeling with the grief of losing his most trusted friend, Arthur closes himself off for good, not daring to let anyone else inside. Though, as destiny would have it, Merlin isn't dead after all, but his return brings dangerous secrets into the light, shaking the brittle hope they've created and everything else they hold dear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even In The Dark (I See Your Light)

**Author's Note:**

> My favorite magic reveal fics are the ones where Arthur already knows. However, this time, I wanted to try writing one where he doesn't. I guess this is where this thing spawned from. 
> 
> This also satisfies my need for wishing that the Magic Reveal happened before the end of the series. The warning for 'Temporary Character Death' isn't really true, honestly, as Merlin is never actually dead, but I wanted to place a warning for it just in case, considering everyone believes him to be dead for a good portion of the story. 
> 
> While Arthur/Merlin is the main pairing, there is also lightly implied Lancelot/Gwen and brief implications of former Arthur/Gwen.
> 
> With that, please enjoy!

“I know what you want.”

Arthur's voice rang out in the desolate ruins of the castle, and Merlin clenched his fists in anticipation, heart thudding in his ears. The veil looked so cold, and dark, but he knew what he had to do. To let Arthur die, here, before he was even king was something he could never let happen. He could feel how anxious Lancelot was next to him, how his eyes bore into the back of Arthur just as his did. 

“Do you?” the Gatekeeper smiled crookedly, meeting his gaze. “And are you willing to let me have it?”

“I'm prepared to pay whatever price is necessary,” Arthur said proudly, shoulders straight and eyes boring into hers, looking every bit the regal king he would someday be. 

She motioned for him to walk closer, but Arthur remained still, for just a few seconds longer. He tilted his head back towards Lancelot, and gave him a single nod. Lancelot returned it, and Merlin started to step forward when Arthur's voice broke in, “Lancelot, hold him.” 

“Arthur, what--” Merlin began, but Lancelot's strong hands clapped down onto his shoulders, holding him in place. He squirmed in his grip, looking at the knight in confusion. “Lancelot!” 

Lancelot didn't speak, only looked up at Arthur gravely. The prince gave him another nod, one of approval, and said quietly, “Take care of him.” 

The words shook Merlin to his core, somehow, realizing that Arthur was telling Lancelot to take care of _him_. He had said _him_ , not _her_ , which would have implied Gwen, but no, _him_. He met Arthur's gaze, trying to convey the curiosity he felt, wanting to ask _why_ , but the prince's eyes unveiled nothing, and for a dreadful second, all Merlin could think was _he knows_. 

The feeling intensified only moments later, as Arthur walked confidently forward towards Cailleach. Merlin could feel his heart slamming rapidly in his chest. No, he couldn't let Arthur do this, he couldn't let Arthur die, not while he could stop him, while he was still breathing--

Lancelot's fingers tightened on him, but Merlin noticed how Lancelot was only grasping the fabric of his jacket. In blind panic, he desperately slipped the jacket off, taking off towards him. Apparently Lance hadn't even noticed because he called after him, “Merlin!”

“Arthur, wait!” 

Arthur was too close to the veil now, and Merlin felt sick. For a horrifying moment he realized that it was all too likely Arthur would continue to ignore him and walk in anyway, but he stilled, and turned back to him. He gave him a confused look, then shot a glare up at Lancelot, before he said angrily, “Merlin, get back!” 

The warlock jogged up next to him, and then swirled around in front of him. He could hear the screaming from the veil behind him, and the magic in him was wailing, as if begging him to come away from it. But instead, he reached out to Arthur, his eyes searching all over his face, imprinting the memory of his prince, his _king_ , inside his mind.

Arthur stared at him, and then Merlin, on impulse, reached out and pulled him closer, brushing their lips together for the briefest of seconds. He felt Arthur freeze, and Merlin kissed him fully, savoring the very last seconds, before he put his hands to Arthur's chest. 

“I'm sorry,” he whispered against his lips, and before Arthur could reply, he muttered a spell under his breath, and just _pushed_ , sending Arthur flying backwards. 

The momentum sent him flying back as well, and he closed his eyes as he allowed the darkness to swallow him whole, content with knowing that his prince was safe.

~~

Arthur watched as Merlin fell into the abyss, and he screamed. 

The laughter from the Gatekeeper rang out as the veil sealed itself shut, completely gone from the world, as if it had never existed at all. Surges of panic and horror were rushing through him, coursing through his entire body. All he could think was _Merlin is dead_ and _No, please, not him_ and _He can't be gone_ , and _What was that kiss for?_

Arthur turned on Lancelot, anger exploding within him, bursting at the seams. 

“I _told_ you to hold him! How _dare_ you defy a direct order--!” 

Lancelot looked utterly ashamed. He couldn't even meet Arthur's eyes, and Arthur opened his mouth to yell some more when Gwaine groaned, and slowly rose to his feet. 

There was a second of hesitation, before Gwaine passed a look between Lancelot, then Arthur, and then towards where the veil had been. He was quiet for a very brief moment, before he bit out, sharply, “Where the _hell_ is Merlin?” 

Lancelot's voice was just barely above a whisper. “He closed the veil.”

Gwaine shot a horrified look at Arthur. “You let him go? You let _him walk_ through that veil and close it, when it should've been _you?_ ” 

“Gwaine!” Lancelot broke in, but Arthur held up a hand. 

“I did _not_ , under any circumstance, _allow_ Merlin to walk through that veil. I had fully intended on going through _myself_ , only to have him shove me back at the last moment, thus condemning himself. Believe me, _Sir Gwaine_ , if it had been up to me, he would still be among us,” Arthur said through gritted teeth, voice dangerously low. He clenched his fists, then turned his attention back to Lancelot. His eyes strayed down to the jacket held loosely in his fingers, and his eyes softened. 

Gwaine noticed it too. He took it from him, and clutched the material tightly. “He was a good man. He doesn't deserve to be torn apart in there.” 

The thought of Merlin being hurt at all sent a wave of sickness to Arthur's stomach. He stormed passed Lancelot and Gwaine, towards the exit of the ruins, hand on his sword.

“We need to get back to the castle,” he said stiffly, words catching in his throat. “That way...we can give Merlin the credit he's due.” 

“Honoring him doesn't bring him back,” Gwaine replied coldly, and Arthur's hand tightened on his sword's hilt. 

“Don't you think I know that?” Arthur hissed, giving him a poisonous glare. “But it's all I have. He gave his life to protect us. The best I can do is honor him, and give him the respect he deserves.” 

He continued walking, not bothering to look back a second time, but soon enough, he heard two pairs of footsteps following after him. 

Arthur thought of Hunith and what her face would look like when he told her that his only son had gone into the veil instead of him. The nausea in his stomach crawled slowly up his throat.

He swallowed it down and kept on going. 

~~

They gave Merlin the burial that a knight would receive upon his death. The look on Gaius' face when only the knights returned was heartbreaking, but somehow, he seemed to understand. Arthur told him quietly the events of what had happened, and Gaius had solemnly nodded his head, and asked to be alone. 

On the funeral pyre, they set the jacket that Merlin had slipped out of. It was customary to use the knights' sword in the fire as well, but since Merlin hadn't been a knight, nor had he a sword, his jacket would have to do. 

When the pyre was lit, Arthur announced the events of which had occurred, and it had taken every ounce of his strength not to choke on the words he spoke. 

“Merlin was very likely a friend to us all,” he said, addressing those who had gathered. “In my place, he gave his own life to make sure the peace was restored, and that Camelot's people would be safe. He was, without a doubt, one of the most loyal men I have ever met, and one of the bravest, as well. Not many would give their lives for such a cause. His name shall be remembered for the days to come, and he shall remain in the hearts of those who were spared.” 

When the smoldering ashes were all that was left, Arthur alone remained outside, kneeling before the charred wood, a hopeless mantra repeating over and over in his mind. If he had kept walking, had not turned to Merlin in those last seconds, he would still be with them. 

He should be grateful he was alive, but instead all he could feel was regret. 

The warmth of Merlin's lips on his was burned into his memory, and touching his fingers to his mouth, he felt lost. 

~~

It was cold inside the veil. 

At least, it felt like it should be. Merlin rubbed his arms, trying vainly to put warmth into them, or even feel the chill in the first place. Every time he let out a breath, a wisp of smoke came out with it, but yet—he didn't feel cold. He scarcely felt anything at all. The only thing he could feel was the magic thrumming through his skin, protecting him from the dark spirits trying to claw away at his flesh. 

He didn't know how long he had been walking through the darkness, or how long it had been since he had first fallen through. Merlin could still feel the ghost of the kiss he'd left on Arthur's lips, and he brought tentative fingers to his mouth, trying hopelessly to feel it again. He closed his eyes and imagined his brightly shining king, and felt relieved. 

He kept walking. 

Everything around him felt _empty_. It felt like absence, like something was missing. Everything here was dead, and gone, but still existing. It felt desolate and blank, damp and dark. 

“Emrys.”

The voice stirred him from his thoughts. Merlin spun on his heel, and came face to face with Cailleach, the Gatekeeper. Was she here to take his magic, so he would finally die? The thought seemed kind of nice, right now. Anything felt better than remaining in limbo for all eternity. He wrapped his arms around himself despite it, expression cautious. 

She gave him a sly smile. “Your magic protects you from the spirits.”

“I'm not asking it to,” he shot back, feeling his magic bristle in his bones. “It's doing it on its own.” 

“Because your time among mortal men is not yet over,” she replied, looking positively delighted somehow. “Even if you want it to be.” 

Merlin took a step away from her, instinctively. “I don't understand what you want me to do. I gave myself up to close the veil, have I not done just that?” 

“The veil has been satisfied, for a living soul has entered its seams, but its blood sacrifice has not yet been quenched,” the Gatekeeper went on. “However, a blood sacrifice given from death cannot come from you.” 

“So someone else has to die in my place?” Merlin seethed, gaze narrowing. The magic within him flared. “I won't allow it. I'll find a way to die before I let that happen.”

She looked amused, tilting her head. “You misunderstand, Emrys. I cannot condemn you to a mortal death, for again, your time is not yet over. The Gods have demanded I return you to the world, to your king, and as destiny wills it, I must obey.” 

“So you're letting me go?” Merlin pressed, voice wary. “What's the catch?” 

She withdrew a knife from her robes, and Merlin jumped back. She waved at him dismissively. “Just a cut will do. Right across the palm,” she extended it to him. “Let the blood seep into the earth beneath your feet. Then the blood price shall be paid, and you will be free to go.” 

“That's it?” he murmured, taking it from her carefully. “And you'll just...let me go back home? Just like that?” 

“Just like that.”

The logical part of his mind screamed at him, telling him that it was a trick, but the magic side of him, the one that thought only of his destiny knew he had to take the chance. He looked up at her, watching how her dark eyes seemed to bore into him, and he glanced down at his hand. Taking the knife, he pressed down on his palm, and made one quick slash, waiting for but a few seconds before the blood beaded to the surface. It began to pool into his hand, and he tilted it, letting it run off of his skin. It dribbled and finally dripped, droplets sinking into the ground underneath him.

“Very good,” Cailleach said, after a moment. He took his neckerchief and wrapped it around his hand, clenching it to soak up the blood. He tied it off and left it there, and then looked back at her. 

“Now what?” Merlin asked, meeting her unblinking gaze. 

She gave him a crooked smile. “And now, Emrys, you return to your kingdom.” 

The darkness beneath him began to collapse, and he was falling through once more. 

~~

Arthur had settled into a routine. It had been three weeks since the fateful day that the veil had been sealed, and three weeks since he'd lost the best friend he'd ever had. For the first week, it had been heartbreaking, a period of grief and mourning, the second had been denial, and calling for him at every turn, only to be disappointed each time he didn't come running with a cheeky retort. 

The third week was emptiness. 

It felt like a light had been put out from Camelot's fine structure, everyone feeling its absence deep inside their bones. Arthur felt it most of all in his heart, like a big Merlin-shaped hole was now gaping there, wanting desperately to be filled with someone who was no longer there. 

He didn't let it hinder him in anyway, however. Quite the opposite, Arthur had withdrawn mostly into himself, completing his duties with his entire attention placed on it, not daring to let his mind linger elsewhere. With his father indefinitely unable to rule, he had taken to running most of the kingdom, assuming the title of Prince Regent. The people knew he was king in all but name, and while he hated to admit it, he also knew it wouldn't be long before Uther passed on. 

The thought made him sick—knowing he would again lose someone close to him so soon. However, Agravaine's council and Gwen's quiet assurances were his only saving graces in the coming days. 

The knights had taken to training amongst themselves, when Arthur couldn't bother to go out there. With constant piles of work weighing down on his shoulders, Arthur, for once, truly felt what it was like to be king. Knowing it would only get worse as time went on was little reassurance. 

Lancelot couldn't look him in the eye for a week after the incident, and even now, Arthur could see the shame written on his features every time he looked at him. He generally shied away from his presence entirely. Gwaine had refused to talk to him at all, even though he knew well that it wasn't his fault Merlin had passed on. If he did have to speak, it was always brief, short, and stiff, and he always addressed him as 'sire'. 

Arthur had been having trouble sleeping as of late, to top it all off, and none of Gaius' sleeping remedies could ever seem to erase the nightmares that plagued him. 

~~

Lancelot had taken to being the model knight. He often led the patrols that Arthur sent out for the first week, searching the area to make sure the Dorocha were completely gone from all the surrounding villages. He had taken to lead most of them when Arthur allowed, unable to really be around his prince for any given time. 

To say he felt guilty was an understatement. Merlin had been one of his dearest friends, and knowing that it was indirectly his fault that he had died weighed heavily on his conscience. He didn't think he'd ever forget the look on Arthur's face after Merlin had gone through the veil, and the scream that he emitted once he realized there was nothing he could do. Not that he had wanted Arthur to go through, of course not, but losing Merlin, knowing that he _could have_ saved him clawed at his heart. 

The patrol he currently lead was a periodic one. The area was more unknown than the others, and he and a few other knights had taken to exploring it. His mind lost in thoughts, he almost didn't hear the crack of sticks that echoed from the left. Snapping back from his thoughts, he held up a hand, stilling the men that followed behind him. 

Lancelot hopped off his horse, pulling his sword from the sheath. He cautiously approached the source of the noise, holding his sword tightly by its hilt. He stepped closer, the blade held outwards, and finally, the figure emerged. 

Gaping, Lancelot dropped his sword entirely. 

Merlin turned to him, and the grin that erupted on his face was blinding.

He looked a little worse for wear, to say the least. His tunic looked dirty and it was tearing at the hems, his neckerchief wrapped around his hand. His hair was messy and had pieces of leaves stuck in it, and he seemed to have a bit of a limp in his step, but he was entirely _alive_ and _breathing_ and _smiling_ at him, and Lancelot ran forward, overwhelmed by the emotion pumping through his veins. 

“Gods above!” he shouted, enveloping him in a hug. “Is it really you?”

“Yeah,” Merlin murmured, returning the gesture wholeheartedly. “It's really me.”

Lancelot pulled back and clapped his hands down on his shoulders, laughter bursting from his throat. He felt mad, and he kept shaking his head, almost in disbelief. “I can't believe this. I simply _cannot_ believe this! How on earth did you make it out alive, Merlin?” 

Merlin sighed, and gave a halfhearted shrug. He opened his mouth to speak, but glanced at the knights still in waiting. They were all staring curiously now, but Merlin recognized none of them by name. He looked back to Lancelot. 

“I'll tell you later,” he said, finally. “Do you think you could help me back to Camelot? I don't know where I am and believe me, I'm _so_ tired.” 

“Of course!” Lancelot said quickly, cursing himself for not offering sooner. “Come, come! Arthur has been a wreck without you!”

Merlin was silent for a moment, as Lancelot pulled him back towards the horses. “Has...he really?” 

The knight looked at the apprehension on his face, taking in how small and almost afraid he looked. Lancelot had seen them kiss briefly before, and he wondered vaguely in the back of his mind if that's what Merlin was worried about. 

Instead of asking, he merely gave him a soft smile, and a nod. 

“Utterly. Now let's get you back. He'll definitely be wanting to see you.” 

He ushered him onwards, and they rode back towards the city. 

~~

Arthur was in council with Agravaine when Lancelot came bursting through the doors. 

“Sire! Important news--” 

“The prince is in the middle of council!” Agravaine snapped, before Arthur could say anything. “Unless we are under attack, you should request an audience before bursting in!” 

Arthur waved a dismissive hand towards his uncle. He looked at Lancelot expectantly. 

The knight took a deep breath, his face breaking into a broad smile. “We found someone in the forest today. Someone that you'll very likely want to see.”

Lancelot turned over his shoulder and waved his hand, ushering someone forward. What Arthur saw next made his heart stop. 

Into the doorway stepped Merlin, rugged and ragged, but very much alive, standing there as if nothing had happened at all. He gave a very shy, tentative smile to him, and Arthur was completely at a loss for words. 

He rose from his seat, and simply _stared_. Three weeks ago, he'd been convinced he would never see him again. He had convinced himself he'd never see those brilliant blue eyes, that blinding smile, that scruffy mess of hair again, and now here he was, in the flesh--

“Everyone out,” he ordered suddenly, words escaping his lips before he even thought about it. “Everyone _out!_ ” 

Arthur looked to Agravaine. “You too, Uncle, if you please. I wish to speak to him alone.”

His uncle looked as though he was about to voice protest, but Arthur gave him a stern look, and he bowed his head. He stormed past the others, and Lancelot bowed his head as well, giving one last beaming smile to Merlin before closing the door behind him, leaving only the two of them in the room. 

A million questions were running through his mind all at once. _What are you doing here? Where did you come from? Where were you? Is the veil still closed? How did you survive?_

He walked towards him, each step he took ricocheting back at him in an echo. Arthur felt overcome with a variety of emotions at once—anger, relief, joy, sorrow, anguish. It all bubbled just beneath the surface of his skin, and he curled his fingers into a fist. He raised his hand, wanting to strike him, wanting to scream at him, _how dare you do that to me--_

But instead he put his arms around him. 

Merlin froze under his touch, as if that had been the last thing he was expecting. He didn't move. Arthur pulled him closer against him, feeling the rapid heartbeat in Merlin's chest. He let out a shaky sigh, squeezing Merlin's hair tighter in his fingers. 

“How _dare_ you do that to me,” he said through gritted teeth, his earlier thoughts coming back to him. “How _dare_ you give up your life like that! How _dare_ you undertake a mission that was mine to accomplish--!” 

“I'm sorry,” Merlin breathed, wrapping his arms around him in turn, but only to grip the fabric of his tunic. “I'm sorry for making you worry. But I'm not sorry for doing it.”

“You should be!” Arthur hissed, pulling back to look at him. “Do you have _any_ idea how any of us felt about that? Do you have any idea how hard it was to come back and tell everyone _you_ had been the one to die? Do you know how hard it was to look your mother in the eye and tell her that her only son had perished to the spirits, when I swore to her I would keep you safe? Do you, _Merlin?_ ” 

The name sounded so heavy on his tongue. Adrenaline was rushing through him, and he clenched his fingers around Merlin's shoulders. 

“I'm just a servant,” Merlin said simply, his voice gone quiet. “You are a prince. Your life is worth one hundred of--”

“Don't spit that nonsense at me!” he shook him forcefully. “You were _never_ just a servant, do you understand that? Your life means just as much as mine! It was not right of you to take my place! I wasn't happy about it then and I'm _certainly_ not happy about it now!” 

He let go of him and paused, letting the silence wash over. He uncurled his fists and stepped back a bit, putting a bit of breathing space between them. Arthur looked him in the eye, then spoke, his voice more controlled than it had been earlier. “You are going to tell me _exactly_ how you got out. And then you're going to swear to me you'll never try _anything_ like that again.” 

“Arthur--” 

“ _Now,_ Merlin.” 

Merlin threaded his fingers together, looking down to the floor. “It's not just black and white, Arthur. It's not just...I got out. There's so much more behind it. So much you don't know, so much I need to tell you...” 

Arthur walked away from him, then, and sat at the head of the council table, gesturing to a chair. He gave Merlin a pointed look, and said firmly, “I have _plenty_ of time. Explain everything. Now.” 

Merlin huffed out something that might have been, _impatient prat_ , but he didn't care to call him out on it. Slowly Merlin walked to the seat at Arthur's right, and sat down, folding his hands into his lap, mindful of the neckerchief still tied around one of them. He stared at his hands for a long time, before Arthur cleared his throat, throwing him from his thoughts. 

From the look on Merlin's face, whatever he had to tell him was terrifying. 

“We have a destiny, you and I,” Merlin began hesitantly, still not meeting Arthur's gaze. “It's been written about for ages, long before either of us were born.”

“Merlin, where are you going with this?” Arthur broke in, patience wearing thin. 

His servant scowled at him, shaking his head. “Just...listen. You need to know this before I can tell you the rest.” 

Arthur wanted to press further, but held his tongue. He gave a single nod in understanding, and Merlin continued. “The Druids have foretold our coming for decades—the legends of the Once and Future King. At his side will stand Emrys, the most powerful warlock to ever live. The son of the sea, the sky, and the earth. Together, they will lead all of Albion into its Golden Age.” 

He licked his lips. “Your birth started a chain of events that would lead to Albion's greatest need. When the Purge began, somewhere, a boy was born, imbued with all the magic that every sorcerer had died with. A boy who was foolish and stupid, who didn't know of a grand destiny, and instead, was looking for a reason for his gifts. He was sheltered and kept in the dark, told never to tell anyone of his gifts, for fear of death, or worse.” 

“And then he was sent to Camelot.”

Merlin met his eyes then, and for some reason, Arthur _knew_. Merlin didn't have to say it, didn't have to say those three words, because everything he had just said, it all made sense, yes, but the way Merlin gazed back at him just made him _understand_.

He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “And what happened there?” 

“He met his destiny,” Merlin replied quietly, then closed his eyes. “I have magic, Arthur. I was born with it. Before I could even talk, I was making things fly around the house, scaring my mother half to death, and driving her mad with worry for me, and my future. I didn't choose it, Arthur, it isn't something I wanted to learn. It chose me, and it's only for you, it's always only been for you.” 

_Only for you_. The words echoed in his mind. He let out a long, tired sigh, though his weariness didn't quell his anger.

“Show me,” he demanded, needing proof, part of him waiting for Merlin to be unable to, to prove that his friend, his best friend hadn't been lying to him, all these years. “I want you to show me.” 

Merlin did so without hesitation. He whispered words in a foreign tongue under his breath, and he held up his hands, a fire springing to life, a small dragon forming within its flames. It beat its wings, flapping in place, the blue hue of Merlin's eyes now glowing gold. He let the little dragon remain for but a few moments, before he closed his hands together, and it was gone. His eyes returned to normal. 

“You've been lying to me...all this time...” he uttered quietly, mind partially in awe, partially still reeling with the information. Merlin looked away, ashamed, and Arthur said, furious, “Why did you come to _Camelot_ of all places? You could have been _killed_ every damn day, Merlin! Do you really have no sense of self-preservation?”

He didn't even realize he was standing up now. Merlin yelled back, “It's not about that! Arthur, my entire _life_ I have been wondering what I was born for, and I found it in you! It has always been my destiny to be at your side, to protect you, to help you become the great king I know you'll someday be--” 

“And what's the point in all of that?” Arthur spat. “What do you seek to gain from it? Do you want to have the ban on magic lifted, so that you can become free? Do you seek to manipulate me, to make me your puppet king? Tell me, Merlin!”

There was a fire burning in Merlin's eyes now. He rose to his feet, too, and Arthur could see the anger burning on his face, in his expression. “I have _never_ sought to manipulate you! I have never used my magic on you! I have slain my own kind to keep you safe, and I would do so again willingly if it meant keeping you alive!” his voice broke, halfway through. “I want to be free, yes, of course I do. I want to be accepted. I want the ban on magic to be lifted because it is cruel and unjust to kill people for something so simple as a daughter healing her ailing father, or a man growing crops so that his children won't starve. It's not fair that people have to die because of something they can't control. They never hurt anyone, so why should they be punished? Is that really so bad? But Arthur that's not--”

“How can I believe that of you?” Arthur retaliated. “How can I believe that you're telling me the truth, when all my life, I have been taught that anyone who uses magic is a traitor and will only corrupt me? When you've just admit that you, a sorcerer, have been lying to me, since the day we met?”

“How was I supposed to _tell you?_ ” Merlin screamed, and Arthur found himself taken aback, watching how grief and anguish wrote themselves onto Merlin's features. He had never seen Merlin like this before, so angry but so upset at the same time. It made his stomach churn. “How was I supposed to tell you when you act like _this?_ ” he gestured to him with his hand, and grew quieter with each word. “How was I supposed to tell you, when you have told me, day in and day out, that magic can't be trusted? How was I supposed to tell you, when I knew you _would_ act like this? When I thought you'd kill me?” 

Arthur let out a sigh. “I wouldn't have...” 

“Wouldn't you?” Merlin asked, but it wasn't angry now, the fury that had just been there suddenly gone. “If I had told you before all of this, would you have let me live?” 

“Yes,” Arthur said, without a doubt in his mind. He may not have initially liked Merlin at first, but there had always been _something_ about him. Something he couldn't put his finger on. But he knew that he wouldn't have let Merlin die, whatever the cost. “I would have let you live.”

“But would you have let me stay?” 

A pause. Then, “No. Probably not.” 

“Then that's why. I had to keep you safe,” He sounded exhausted, and he plopped back down into his chair. “It's all that ever mattered to me. Making sure you and Camelot were safe. I couldn't do that if you sent me away.” 

The prince took his seat once more. “But _why?_ What makes you...what makes you risk your life, every single day, knowing that at any moment, you could be accused of sorcery, and then killed? Why are you so loyal to me, when I have done nothing to deserve it?” 

“You have,” the warlock replied, giving him a weary smile. “Every day, I see you, and I see the man you can become. They're not so different. You have a brave, and noble heart, and you care a great deal about your people. You would do anything for them, if it meant protecting them, you proved that when you were willingly going to give up your life to the Dorocha. You earned my loyalty a long time ago.” 

“But why do you _stay?_ With me?” Arthur muttered. “Your... _destiny_ tells you you're supposed to, so do you just...listen to destiny, then? Do whatever it tells you? Follow wherever it leads you?” 

“Gods, no,” Merlin gave a quiet laugh. “I've been trying so hard to defy it, actually. And it's _our_ destiny, Arthur. I couldn't do anything without you. Some say we're like two sides of the same coin.”

He leaned back in the chair. “As for why I stay with you, well, I thought that was obvious.” 

Arthur opened his mouth to tell him that no, it wasn't, but upon looking at Merlin closer, he noticed the faint blush on his cheeks. He cleared his throat, awkwardly.

“I'm afraid it's not as obvious as one would think,” he said stiffly. 

Merlin barked out a laugh. He gave him a strange look. “I knew you were a little thick, but I thought you knew about _that_ , at least. Did you really think that kiss was entirely chaste? Or that I just did it because I wanted to give _someone_ a kiss before I went? If I had wanted that, I would've kissed Lancelot, he was right there, or Gwaine, but then again, he was unconscious, so.” 

The warlock shrugged halfheartedly. “Even if you don't, I stay with you because despite how much of a prat you can be, I love you and couldn't bear the thought of any harm coming to you. I know you don't love me back, and that's alright, because you have Gwen and you've been waiting years for her--” 

“Merlin, _shut up_ ,” the prince commanded, and at his insistence, Merlin shut his mouth, halting his words instantly. Arthur didn't want to think about it right now, not the kiss, no, he needed to focus on Merlin and his magic. 

He stood from his seat again, the chair screeching along the floor. Blue eyes watched him warily, cautiously. In a spur of the moment decision, he took his sword from his belt, and he placed it on the table. 

Arthur looked back to Merlin, and thought with a surge of relief, _I know I can trust him._

“Swear to me,” Arthur said, confidence rising with each syllable. “Swear to me, that you will do no harm to Camelot, or any of its citizens, as long as you remain within these walls, unless it is defense of your life, or in another's.”

Instead of answering right away, Merlin too rose from his seat, but instead of staying that way, he moved to where he directly in front of him. He knelt down on one knee, head bowed. 

“I swear,” Merlin replied, as if he'd been waiting to say the words all his life. “I swear, that I will never use my magic to harm anyone in Camelot, unless it's in defense of my life or another's. My magic is yours to command, as it always has been, my king.” 

The words _my king_ did not escape Arthur's notice, but instead of addressing it, he slowly nodded. He placed a hand on Merlin's head. “Rise.” 

Merlin did so. All of the surety he'd once had now fading, and he looked awkward, nervous, as if waiting for what was to come next. Arthur instead took his hand, and examined the neckerchief. “Tell me about this.” 

“It's how I got out,” he began to unwrap the cloth, and it revealed an open cut. “My magic was protecting me while I was inside the veil, it wouldn't let me die. Cailleach, the Gatekeeper, she said that it was not yet my time and that the Gods had demanded that I be returned to the world. But she still required a blood sacrifice, hence, this. Then I woke up, and Lancelot found me.” 

Arthur ran his fingers gently over the wound, and then squeezed, very lightly. “I don't forgive you, you know. I just...can't. Not yet. Just because you've used it in my service doesn't mean you haven't lied to me, all this time. It doesn't mean that I wasn't beside myself with regret after you went through that damned veil, knowing I would never get to tell you how I really felt about you.” 

Merlin began to pull away from him, his expression guarded. “Arthur, what--” 

The prince placed a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him forward, closing the space between them. Their lips met and Merlin froze underneath of him, as if confused, unsure, lost. Arthur's kiss was soft at first, gentle, the little bit of contact coaxing him, telling him it was alright to give in to it. Eventually, he did so, and with renewed vigor Merlin kissed back eagerly, relishing in the warmth that it brought him. 

Surprisingly, Merlin broke the kiss, face flushed but looking deliriously happy in his eyes. He cupped Arthur's face with his hands, and pressed their foreheads together. 

They stayed like that for a moment, but then Merlin frowned. “What about...Gwen?” he asked hesitantly. “I thought...her?” 

“I don't think I ever truly loved Gwen,” Arthur admitted. “I love her, yes, but...not like...not like I think I should. And now that Lancelot is back for good, well, I don't think it will take long for her choice to be made.” 

Merlin hummed in response, as if the answer made sense, and satisfied him. He pulled his head away, after a moment. 

“Are we okay?” he finally asked, sounding shy. “I mean...you're not...mad at me?” 

Arthur barked out a laugh. “Gods, Merlin. I'm _furious_ with you.” 

His expression faltered. Merlin began to step away, obviously wanting to put some space between them, but Arthur held firm, wrapping his arms around him. “I'm furious that you could be killed, even now. My father is still king, and even in his state...he would not hesitate to sentence you to death if he knew. You'll have to keep your secrets a little longer,” he sighed. “And I meant what I said. I still don't forgive you for this. You have to give me time to...come to terms with it.” 

A small smile curled onto his lips. “However, you can spend that period making it up to me. And I know there is more to this story, Merlin. I want to know everything. Everything you have done for Camelot...and for me. You'll tell me?” 

“Everything,” Merlin swore. “I promise, I'll tell you every word, every detail, every story there is to be told.” 

“Then don't worry about us,” Arthur said, and kissed him again, just because he could. A fond warmth bubbled inside of him. “We'll be just fine.”


End file.
